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Knowing my answer would kill the moment, but refusing to lie, I croaked out a “No.”
Then she mumbled something under her breath I strained to hear. Something that sounded a lot like, “Gosh, I’m such a shitty sister.” Then her eyes shifted, zeroing in on my lips.
The hair rose on the back of my neck as she leaned closer. My depth of experience in reading girls and their body language was lacking, so when she slid one hand to the back of my neck and tugged me forward, I was afraid to assume her intentions.
Until her lips met mine, so soft and supple and sweet, part of me feared I’d dreamt it. Like the flutter of butterfly wings, they parted my own, and far too soon, were gone again.
But I wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot, so I removed my glasses in one swift movement and chased the kiss, bringing her lips back to mine. Gone was the nerdy, quiet boy from class. Instead, a man took his place. One that knew what he wanted. One that seized control.
My hands slid to her face, and I pulled her even closer, easing into it before I angled my head, somehow instinctively knowing when to deepen the kiss. When to retreat and brush my tongue against hers. When to brush my knuckles against the side of her jaw.
I’d pictured this moment a million times in my head. Never had I actually expected it to happen with Ella, the girl of my dreams. She tasted a million times better than I imagined, like mint and strawberries. And she felt even better in my arms.
My lips brushed over hers in a soft caress once more as her hands raked through my hair in response, and I pressed her back up against the bathroom door. The breath rattled in my lungs, and my heart pounded so loudly, it rivaled the drums from the band on the stage outside. And then we were falling–
Whoosh.
Ella flew backward with me on top of her, both of us crashing to the club floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Confused, I blinked several times, righting myself as I glanced at my surroundings. Several people I didn’t recognize stared down at us, not so subtly covering their laughter with their hands.
One man with an official looking name badge glanced at me. “Whoops. Sorry about that. A line was forming, and someone said the door was jammed.”
“It was,” Ella said in a breathless pant. Rising to her feet, she brushed herself off, recovering quickly.
Standing, I glanced over at her, unsure of what to say as two girls pushed past us into the bathroom. I would’ve thought the kiss itself would’ve been awkward, it being my first one, but it wasn’t. It burned every bit as hot and bright as a meteor crashing to Earth. Instead, this moment, these seconds after, were what threw me. I’d only ever thought about what I’d do while I kissed her—where to put my hands, how slow to move, how much tongue—not what to sayafter.
But I’d forgotten how amazingly adept she was at circumventing even the toughest of social situations because she simply smiled and slowly shook her head and said, “Wow, Barry Glick. Just . . .Wow.”
Chapter 17
BARRY
Irangthedoorbellof Scarlett’s house, shifting from side-to-side, unable to stop moving. My feet itched. My legs burned. My whole body pulsed with energy, too amped up from the evenings’ events and my kiss with Ella to stand still.
When Scarlett answered, Penelope and Topher hovered behind her in the hallway, and I practically leapt at them. “I kissed her!”
Scarlett made a choking noise in the back of her throat, equal parts disbelief and joy as I stepped inside. “What?”
“No way.” Topher shook his head. “You kissed Ella tonight?”
“Yep.” I cocked my head. “Well, technically, she kissed me first, but then I kissed her back. Hard. With confidence. Like I’ve done it a million times before.”
“Dude—” Topher punched me in the arm.
“Way to go, Ella and Barry. It took Topher forever to kiss me,” Penelope said.
“Hey,” Topher frowned, “that could also be because you hated my guts.”
“And you were pretending to be someone else he was interested in,” Scarlett chimed in.
“Whatever.” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Just saying.”
“So how did you leave things?” Scarlett asked, guiding us down the hallway past a myriad of family photos, into her living room, where I took a spot on the sofa.
“Well, after we got out of the bathroom—”
“The bathroom?” Penelope asked, brows raised.
“It’s a long story.” I waved her away. “But once we got out, Luca spotted her and kind of ushered her away. Then I left.”
